Burn
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: Chloe ran away from her problems. In the little town of Lyle, in Buffalo, she meets the quiet, dog-loving Derek and his band of weird, funny friends. Slowly, she begins to relax. She starts to feel. Too bad her past comes blowing into town and ready to burn her again.
1. Chapter 1

Burn

Part One: From Ashes Like A Phoenix

One

Brand New

"This will be our new start," my aunt says with a smile, her warm, pale-blue eyes accessing the sleek, isolated house in front of us.

Me, I just duck my head and stare at my hands. My nails are long and the black nail polish is chipped; my hands used to be smooth as glass, smattered with light freckles. Now, they look all wrinkled and burned, just like the rest of me.

Let me backtrack. My name is Chloe Jennifer Saunders. I'm fifteen and a half. I'm barely five feet and have no curves to speak of, let alone breasts. I barely fit a double A bra cup.

I used to be pale as porcelain but now I'm a jumbled mess of browns and red and tans and creams, a disgusting result of a house fire back in Sacramento, and my hair is strawberry blonde with dozens of red streaks that I put in after the accident.

I wanted to dye it black, because I hated my hair (it reminded me of my mother) but Lauren said no. I hate my eyes. They're a very distinct, very clear blue. That's what attracted _him _to me. _He_ always said he loved my eyes.

"Chloe, come look at the backyard," Lauren says. I drag myself out of the car and shuffle over to her, peeking out from underneath my hood. The grass is bright green and there are lots of trees. Typical backyard. I turn away and Lauren sighs this heavy sigh that makes me feel horrible.

"I know this is hard for you—" she begins but I interrupt her.

"No, you don't," I say sharply. "I lost everything. You lost a brother. I lost my mother, my father, hell, I-I lost most of my skin." I rub my hands, feeling the leathery skin. "So don't you _dare _try to tell me this is hard for me."

Trembling with anger, I turn and make my way into the woods. I can't be here right now, with her. She doesn't understand. At all. She may have lost her brother but I lost everything. I lost my skin, my family, my _everything._

The tree branches swipe against my clothes but I ignore it and continue forward; my hands are shaking with anger. My face feels hot as I hear Lauren call for me. My pace picks up. _No, _I think to myself.

I make a left and break into a sprint when I hear the trees behind me rustle—_he's _here. My feet pound noisily on the floor and my chest aches. The wind whips my hair away from my face and, abruptly, my foot catches on a root. I lurch forward and the ground rushes to meet me; I end up tumbling into a dingy, dark clearing with logs and a canopy that swirls down light. It's cool and earthy here; my own little world away from the painful reality. It looks magical. It looks isolated.

Isolated.

Just like me. I'm all alone now.

My hands are bleeding from the fall and I suck in a breath. My face is throbbing. It feels sticky when I touch it and my hood's fallen off, my hair tangled with leaves and dirt.

In the middle of the clearing is a small pond. Clear water. Little fish swim circles in it. A frog scrambles out and hops into the underbrush. I slowly pick out the mess from my hair as I walk to the water; I need to see how bad my face—my ugly, disgusting face—is scratched up.

When I kneel, I start. The scars aren't as bad as they are on the rest of me. They're like lava, flowing over my skin, light and dark like pools of light on the forest floor.

The Water Chloe copies my movement as I brush my hair into a ponytail and let my hands run through the water. My jeans are filthy and my hoodie is grass-stained. Lauren will be very angry.

The trees shiver as someone breaks through their line. "Why?" I ask Water Chloe. _I hate you. You left me all alone. I'm so alone. You left me. You were supposed to die peacefully in your sleep with Mom. Now I'm stuck here without you. And _he's_ still out there. I know he's going to find me. He always has and this time…no one can save me. _

I jump when I hear dogs. Barking. Loud, excited. Their paws smack the earth. They whine. I turn around slowly and my breath catches.

The guy holding the dogs' leashes is tall, giant. He's over six feet tall. He's the kind of guy you'd see at the gym, except he's wearing a tank top that does nothing to hide his muscular frame and jeans that hug his long, muscular legs. His grey running sneakers are old, tearing at- the heels.

His skin is smooth, like marble and the color of a light bronze. He obviously does a lot of outside work; his tan lines are thick and extremely evident. His hair is dark, dark like ink. His eyebrows are thick, like serial killer thick. Tyler Hoechlin thick. His face is pocketed with acne scars and acne itself; he can't be any older than me, probably in his early twenties at the most.

His eyes are interesting. They're very green, almost like toxic waste in old comic books. I won't be surprised when they reflect the light like a dog's. "Roxxie!" One of the dogs is off her leash and is sprinting towards me, her tail going forty miles per hour.

I meet the dog's eyes. Brown, like the sunset. I crouch down as she slows, trotting up to me. She's a big girl, an Australian sheep dog mix. Shaggy hair. Big, expressive eyes. She sniffs my outstretched hands; I ignore her owner's staring at me—no, at my skin.

His gaze is intense so it's hard to miss the heat.

"Good girl," I say softly as I run my burnt fingers through her soft, light fur. She whines and licks my face. "Who are you?" he asks in a deep, gravelly voice. My stomach flutters. I look at him. He looks at me. "Chloe!" calls my aunt.

I get to my feet and Roxxie butts her head against my legs. I lean down and stroke softly along her spine. "Good girl," I whisper.

He clears his throat. I meet his eyes. They're staring at me, trying to uncode me. "Nobody. Call me Nobody."

I turn and walk away; I can hear him behind me. "Derek."

I like the sound of his name. _Derek. Derek. Green-eyed Derek. Chloe and Derek. Chlerek. _Lauren's ordering Mister Jim's when I get home. She doesn't notice me. "I got you…" I'm not listening.

I'm too busy thinking about Derek. Derek-I-have-amazing-eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Burn

Two

Flames

The moonlight pierces my eyelids and wakes me in the early morning hours. Aunt Lauren is asleep, seeing at the blurry, digital clock on my nightstand reads the time is 2:30 AM.

Groaning to myself, I sit up. A quick glance outside tells me it's darker than black outside, the moon suspended by an invisible thread in the sky, glowing bright, bright yellow-white. It's beautiful.

My skin is covered in goosebumps, the sheets sticky and cold with damp sweat. A nightmare—no, a dream, a memory—is replaying in the back of my head: He's giving me a beautiful smile while holding my smooth, perfect hand, the ring on His finger, His family crest He told me, gleaming in the light. He swept back His hair, long and curly with natural highlights from the sunshine, and smirked at me.

With a smile that unsettled me, He turned to the beach. The memory is warped. I can hear myself crying—or was it Him? I remember tasting blood, my cheek stinging—had I fallen or had He pushed me? The memory changed to something else: He was curled up on the floor, crying hysterically. I came to break up with Him. He turned it around on me, blaming no one but Himself, crying and dripping snot all over His face.

There was rope under the bed, curled in a figure eight. My face was burning with the heat of my tears; He clawed at his arms and started to scream at me.

"Get a hold of yourself, Chloe," I whisper to myself, rubbing at my eyes. Tears have trickled down my burnt cheeks and make my chapped lips sting. _You aren't a child._ I push back my little girl sweets-themed comforter and let my feet brush the floor; my blue-painted toenails wiggle on my toes as they search for my bunny slippers.

I give up after a few minutes have gone by with no slippers in sight.

The house is silent. Outside, the wind is a low murmur of a whispery breeze; crickets sing quietly and bats squeak to each other, to their lovers and children and family, alive in the nighttime.

I slide on a sweatshirt over my pink flannel pajamas, which are, quite honestly, made more for a little kid than a fifteen-year-old.

Maybe I'll take a little walk. I look out the window, staring down. My heart stops when I see Him, staring up at me with that stupid grin I saw on His scratched-up face last time I saw Him, His own doing. I scramble back, heart pounding as hot tears flood my eyes.

When I peek over the windowsill, He's gone. Maybe I'd imagined it? He can't know where I am. Shaking my head, I make my way downstairs. The porch is quiet and I'm close enough to the house that I can relax. I kick my feet; let them dangle off the edge of the railing. "It's lovely out," breathes a voice and I jump, rocking myself off balance. I lurch forward.

A pair of strong, strong arms—_no, _I think to myself even as His strong arms wound tight around me after our first time together (mine, not His) floats to the surface of my mind—wind around my stomach and a shoulder nudges me back onto the railing.

"He didn't mean to scare you," says another voice, much different than the first. The second voice is softer, feminine. When I open my eyes, I see Derek's toxic-green eyes and a pair of almond-shaped brown ones.

The other boy is lean and wiry, around five-foot-seven. His skin is lightly tanned and flawless—damn it. His honey-blonde hair is spiky, shiny with gel. He's dressed in similar wear as Derek; a sweat-soaked tank top and shorts with running sneakers.

"Roxxie!"

I hop off the railing, my legs shaking. I'm still shaken up from the window incident or am I still fluttery after Derek's rock-hard arms around my waist? "Come here," I say softly, letting her sniff my fingers. Her pink little tongue washes my burnt skin, not minding the discoloration.

"My name's Simon," says the blonde boy. I eyeball his outstretched hand. "Chloe," I mutter back, ignoring his polite hand. Simon's smile falters a bit at the corners of his mouth; I remember watching His mouth do that if I said something He didn't like.

"I see Roxxie's taken a liking to you," he continues conversationally, like I'm not completely ignoring the humans and focusing on the cute dog that's sniffing at my neck. Her cold nostrils touch my pendant. I let my fingers slide through her fur, soft, warm skin humming with energy under long, scruffy fur. She feels like the dogs I used to work with back home—I shut down the thought immediately; home is where He is.

"And she speaks," Derek grunts. I look at him from behind my bangs. He's standing calm, arms crossed like he's angry—He'd do that too, when He didn't like someone, cross His arms—I clench my fists tight and distract myself with the pain.

"What brings you here to Lyle?"

I ignore Simon and stand up, my legs prickling as the blood rushes back into them. "I have to go." A gush of wind blows my hair around and Roxxie starts to bark viciously at something behind me as I gather my hair away from my face. _Chloe…Chloe…my precious little kitten, Chloe…_I whip around and my stomach drops down to my feet. He's standing behind me, smiling wickedly, holding the rope from our breakup night.

My legs are weak and then they give out, causing my body to hit the ground hard. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Roxxie braces herself in front of me and continues to bark, saliva flying from her sharp canines.

He smiles wider, His strong hands—I remember them clawing at my legs as I escaped down the stairs, Him screaming after me—pulling the rope taut. His muscles are hard with anger, His handsome face dark with it.

"Chloe!"

I can hear a man's voice calling me. I squeeze my eyes shut and tug at my hair, little chunks drifting to the ground. Male hands curl over my fists, prying my fingers away from my hair. My heart is thumping fast, like a frightened animal's; I can taste tears and snot on my tongue from crying. My breathing is short, panting. I can't seem to get enough oxygen.

"Chloe, just focus on my voice. Breathe in, out. In, out. Like this." The voice demonstrates. Slow, deep breathing puffs in my ear. I try to copy him. When I crack my eyes open to slits, He's not there, only damp grass.

If I'd been looking closely, I'd seen the trampled grass. If Simon hadn't been trying to calm down, he would've seen the grass too. Derek did. But he didn't believe it.

Trembling, I crawl to my feet and scowl to myself as my face warms; I'd wet myself. Unable to look them in the eye, I flee to the house and close the backdoor behind me. I lock the doors. I double-check the windows and even the attic window.

From my bedroom, I can see Derek and Simon calming down Roxxie, whose fur is still on end. Simon leads Roxxie away; Derek lingers, surveying the landscape. He looks back at me. His hand lifts up in a wave.

And then he walks away.

I strip down, tossing my ruined panties and pajama bottoms into the hamper; I feel filthy. "I hate you," I whisper as I sit under the scalding water at 3:20. I cry a little, scrub my skin raw. I sit under the water until it runs cold before I get out, ignoring my skin as I towel off.

I don't smell like urine; I smell like Cucumber and Mint Dove body wash. I'm sliding into a new shirt, a Barbie one, when I hear my aunt rattling around. "Chloe?" she asks, knocking on the door.

"You okay? I heard the water running."

I don't want to worry her so I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. "I'm fine. I just started my period though." She sighs, obviously relieved. I can tell she's not entirely convinced. "Okay." Her heels click on the floor as she walks away.

I slide under the covers and feel the cool, now dry sheets. Tears drip out of my eyes as I cry myself to sleep.

Was it a dream? Was it just my schizophrenia? Or was it reality, worse than any of my schizophrenic episodes?


	3. Chapter 3

Burn

Three

Ashes

I watch Aunt Lauren's car peel out of the driveway, a feeling of anxiety creeping up on me at the stormy, concerned look on her face. Ever since last night, I've been looking over my shoulder every few minutes. Expecting Him to pop up, gun in His hand, rope tied around His throat.

I drift into the kitchen. Pour myself a bowl of sugary cereal. While I stare off into the window, my cereal gets soggy and the milk turns sky-blue. My stomach's too knotted to eat. I scrape the sticky mess down the garbage disposal.

_Silly, silly Chloe. You think you can run? _His voice whispers, taunting; I grip the edge of the sink and squeeze my eyes shut. I can feel the whisper of His hands on me, stroking my back and shoulders. I whip around and open my eyes; He's not there.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I shuffle to the foyer. The doorbell rings. My brain freezes as I remember Him ringing my doorbell, fresh and slick out of the shower, water droplet clinging to His eyelashes. Standing up on my tiptoes, I peek into the peephole.

It's Derek, standing with a spiky-haired girl who's wearing a leather pencil skirt and dark, electric makeup. Roxxie's sniffing my aunt's cactus and yelps when she picks her snout, scuttling away.

"Chloe?" Derek's rumbling voice says my name and I can't deny the way my heart skips a beat; my brain falters back to when He said my name, a teasing lilt in His voice as He taunted me.

"We know you're in there." The spiky girl elbows Derek, and he drops back to scratch Roxxie behind the ears. I debate on all possibilities: they could mug me, sick Roxxie on me…but I highly doubt that.

I unlock the deadbolt and ease the door open a tiny bit. "I'm Tori, this idiot's sister," says the spiky girl. I let my head bob in a nod of acknowledgement as she places her hand with long; black nails on the door and pushes it open. My feet are stumbling back, my chest tightening as my brain stutters.

He stood at a door at my old house, slamming His way in, radiating anger. I'd stumbled away, frightened as His dark, burning eyes stared down at me.

"Chloe?"

I blink away the shadowy memories and focus on Derek's bright eyes. I'm on my back on the floor. My head is pounding. "I-I-I—" I stutter out and slap a hand over my mouth, eyes widening in shock. My stutter came back. Tori doesn't say anything for a moment, just studies me, and then: "Are you okay?"

"F-f-f—" I nearly chomp my tongue off. "Slow down," Derek says softly and my face flames; this is so embarrassing. "F-Fine," I squeak out. Tori gives Derek a look I can't decipher. I don't understand _why _they're here, anyway.

"W-what do you want?"

A pause. Then Derek gets to his feet, gripping my hand, helping me stand. I can feel electricity shoot down my spine and I snatch my hand back. "Friendship. Peace," Tori drawls out, shooting me a look. I shrink back. "Leave me alone," I say, anger rising. How dare they barge into my house?

"My aunt and I don't _need _your damn charity! Just stay t-the hell away!" I snarl, anger bubbling over everything, especially the charity—help the new girl fit in, barge into her house—and whip the door open; the air whooshes into the house. The breeze stirs His voice. _Chloe…Chloe…_He mocks. _You'll never be rid of me, _He says. I grip the door hard, feeling the worn wood bite into my skin, my knuckles turning white.

I meet Derek's unreadable eyes.

"Stay the hell away from me and my family. We don't need your charity." Tori struts up to me, up in my face. Her breath smells like taco meat. Her narrowed eyes meet mine. "Listen here, midget, I'm doing this because Derek's taken a liking to you. I'm not here for some damn charity. Plus—" She eyeballs me, my hair and my rumpled pajamas. "You look like you need someone to talk to. Beside yourself, of course. I may be a bitch but I'm not a backstabbing bitch. Believe it or not, I know what it's like to be the new kid, to try to fit in."

She grows quiet for a minute before she continues. "But if you're gonna be a total little shit about it? Nah. Not gonna happen." _You little shit, _He yelled at me as He grabbed my arm, hard, leaving black bruises that Lauren flipped about.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter, my face warming. I can feel Him behind me, hands tightening around my throat. "I-I-It's h-hard," I continue, feeling tears prickle my eyes. "I-I—I'd like t-to b-be friends…if that's okay."

When I look up, I see Tori's smirk and Derek's thoughtful look and I know this going to be a weird friendship.

oOo

They never ask me about what happened that caused me to move from Buffalo to Lyle, never asked about my burns or my parents and I was grateful. Instead, we talked about anything and everything.

I learned Derek was adopted at the age of five by Mr. Bae, or Kit as he prefers to be called, and doesn't remember much about life without the Bae family. Simon's mom, Kit's wife, died in a plane crash; Tori's mom, an ex girlfriend of Kit's before he met Simon's mom, bailed him with the baby, that baby grew up into Tori.

"So, Chloe," Simon says, waving around his Wii and nearly smacking Derek in the face as his little character runs on screen, "how come you moved here?"

I let my eyes drift down. Squeeze them shut and take a deep breathe. They need to hear the truth; after all they've been my friends for several months. I glance at Tori, who's watching me closely, her eyes drifting between me and her adoptive brother.

Derek growls and then his familiar, big body brushes mine, stroking my hair. "M-My d-dad died in a house f-fire. T-that's where I got my burns," I start slowly, searching for Derek's hand. His fingers lace between mine and I relax, tucking my feet under me. I'm shivering, cold even under my sweatshirt and jeans and blanket. He drapes his arm across the back of my shoulders and hugs me closer.

"B-but b-before th-that," I sigh out, feeling my chest start to loosen, "I-I met someone. He was s-sweet and kind at first." I look up into Derek's green eyes and I smile weakly. "Bu-but…he changed a f-f-few months after w-we started dating. H-he was extremely p-possessive of me, and got mad at the d-drop of a hat. I felt l-like he was bi-polar; one minute he was h-happy and lovey with me, the next h-he was calling me a cheating whore and swinging me around."

I rub my arm.

"He…was obsessive with me. Things went bad fast and I g-got out of there. He d-didn't take it too well. I heard he tried t-to k-ki-kill himself, b-but the night I went to break up with him, he flipped." I can feel the anger radiating off Derek. I stroke his knuckles. He kisses the top of my head and lingers a second too long. My stomach flutters.

"H-he attacked me. I r-remember a-as I was ru-ru—" I take a deep breath. "There was a rope under his bed. He clawed me as I-I ran d-do-down the stairs. I n-never saw him, n-not even when m-my d-dad died. He kept calling, leaving sad, broken messages, and then it was angry, blaming _me _for the break up."

I shiver and huddle.

"We moved here, me and Aunt Lauren, to get away from him and Rae, my ex-best friend who turned on me after my breakup, and the bad memories."

"What was this scumbag's name?" Tori demands, eyes flashing almost violet as her hair glints blue under the light. She looks like a pissed-off enchantress, ready to murder Him.

I look away and tears drip down my cheeks. Derek hugs me hard, pressing my face into his chest and he smells like pine needles and perspiration, oddly comforting.

"R-Royce. Royce Banks."


	4. Chapter 4

Music: Valley of the dolls-Marina and the Diamonds, I'm sorry-Flyleaf

Original Typset: Filosofia regular

* * *

Burn

Four

Letters

The last few have been torturous. Nate's constantly dragging me to Simon's soccer games; Tori and Liz make me accompany them on their weekly shopping trips but Derek, thankfully, lets me hang up in his room and teaches me to play Chinese checkers.

Those afternoons are peaceful and quiet, not loud and busy. Derek and I spend the afternoons making science at-home projects and watching sci-fi movies on his old TV. I can lounge in my pajamas pants and his old sweatshirts and feel comfortable; he lounges in sweats and wife-beaters.

"I want ice cream," he says one afternoon as we settle down to watch a classic, _Night of the Living Dead. _"Do you have cookie dough?" I ask innocently; his soft grin makes my heart speed up. It's been years since I left Royce and never once have I felt so comfortable around a boy, not even my dad.

I watch Derek take his leave and flop onto my back. "You can't _have_ him_," _Royce whispers in my ear. I jump and look around; it takes me less than a minute to realize it's _in my head. _

"Why not? Y-you aren't here anymore," I hiss, anger bubbling up like a faucet; I deserve to be happy, to be with someone who won't hurt me. "I _own_ you! Your pretty little head is _mine_!" The voice is so loud that I do a sweep of the area, making sure he isn't standing behind me.

"Maybe wh-when we were dating but not now! I'll _never _be yours again." A laugh sends my skin crawling; that laugh promised so much pain and fear. "We'll see," he tells me in a tone he used all the time, his I Get What I Want voice.

"You want the carton, right?"

Dazed, I look up at him. "Derek?" I say softly and his smile drops fast as he sets down the little cartons and flops down next to me. "You won't let him get me, will you?" I ask as tears fill my vision.

"No, never." His nostrils flare and I can see the tiny hairs on his top lip, like the fur I grew when I got too paranoid to so much as eat. I smile, relaxing as the paranoia washes away. "Thank you."

"For what?" He sits down with the cartons and starts to dig into his. I tilt my head up so I can meet his green, green eyes. "For being you."

After that, we settle in the nest of blankets and sheets to watch zombies eat people's brains.

oOo

The letter comes in the mail. Derek's sitting on the counter, trying to find green apples in the fruit basket. I'm laughing as I rip open the paper, hearing it tear. The smell of his cologne hits me strongly and I sway; Derek's arms wind around me and hold me steady.

"He sent me a letter," I whimper out quietly. "A freaking _letter_." My hands are shaking too much to pry out the wrinkled paper so Derek does it for me.

_Dear Chloe,_

_I miss you. I love you. I'll always love you. You'll always be mine. You're a rare gem, a beauty, and we're meant to be. From the moment I saw you that day, I knew you had to be mine. You looked so innocent, reading_ Speak_, your hair escaping your ponytail as you tried to ignore Rae's chattering. I remember you had a spaghetti stain on your breast and I felt a hunger to devour you…all of you._

_You were so innocent, so inexperienced, Chloe. I molded you. I was your first and you were mine. _Derek's breathing is harsher in my ear now.

Tears drip down my face and stain the paper as I tremble.

_Of course, I didn't understand why you left me. I love you. And YOU WILL BE MINE. _

_Always yours, _

_R.B._

I dissolve into tears as Derek carefully folds up the paper and tucks it back in. "Oh my god, Derek!" I shriek and turn to my best friend, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. His sad, green eyes meet mine. "Chloe," he breathes out my name on a cloud. It rings in my ears. "He's found me! Nonono!" I can't stop crying now, tears and snot running down my face, staining my lips, my cheeks; my eyes start to ache and a pounding spreads through my temples viciously.

"Chloe," Derek says again, sharply and I shrink back, mind shuffling back to a time where Royce would scream my name, over and over, his voice raw by the end, madness in his eyes—no, betrayal and anger.

"We have to give this to the police," he tells me softy, taking my hand. He strokes my skin as I dab at my eyes, wiping away tears and snot. I know I look like a mess, with my uncombed, stringy hair, dull eyes and now snot running down my face.

"Y-Yeah." My voice cracks halfway and tears build up again. "I was so careful. I didn't say a word to anyone before we left." He reaches out for me and grips my biceps, dragging me into his warm, hard chest. His heartbeat is drumming, _b-bump, b-bump, b-bump, _like a song, just for me.

He smells like perspiration and warm, fresh-out-of-the-laundry cotton and it comforts me, calming down my racing heart. His solid arms are around my back, giant hands rubbing gentle circles and his voice vibrates through his chest and into my cheek.

"Ssh, it's okay, it's okay. If he so much as _looks _at you, I'll kill him." I smile to myself as Derek sways, making me sway in turn, just the two of us swaying, dancing almost, in an imaginary breeze.

"You're mine! Always!"Royce snarls. I squeeze my eyes shut and dig my nails into Derek's back, whimpering softly. He cooes to me and strokes my hair the way Mom used to, wiggling his fingers through the tangles of knots.

Once I've calmed down, I splash water on my face and comb back my hair with my wet hands. Sniffling slightly, I watch Derek hold his hand out to me, his big hand with its scars and faint scar from a rat dog bit him when he was thirteen, and slip mine into his.

They fit like long lost puzzle pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

Soundtrack: Red Sam (Acoustic)-Flyleaf

Original typset: Sabon LT roman

Sorry if this doesn't make sense. At all. I really hate this but I wanted to update. Don't hate me ;U;

* * *

Burn

Five

Missing Mothers Return

"It'll be okay," Derek reassured me as Aunt Lauren filled out the paperwork. "Chloe Saunders?" asked a cop. I froze, my lungs constricting with terror. He looked kind of like Royce, the same jaw, same face structure, same wavy, black hair.

"Chloe?" Derek was gripping my elbow firmly, his voice reverberating through my skull. "C-Can he c-come with me?" I asked shyly, feeling my heart pound against my ribcage, threatening to slip out between the bones and fall to the floor with a sickening splat.

The cop, Officer Reynolds, gave Derek a glare. "Nope, sorry," he said, popping the P, not sounding the least bit apologetic. Derek squeezed my arm reassuringly; I could feel the tears blur my eyes.

"Please?" My voice cracked and a bit of fear seeped through into my tone. Reynolds's face softened a tiny bit. "I'll see what I can do," he grunted and told us to wait. I flinched at every loud noise, every phone ringing, and every shout of a man.

All of them sounded like Royce.

All of them looked like him.

I hid against Derek and he stroke my hair, shushing me softly at every noise I made. "Miss Saunders, your boyfriend can come but he's not allowed to answer the questions directed at you. He'll be escorted out to be questioned separately," said Officer Reynolds.

We were led to a big room with a view of the city and a one-way mirror. "It's just like Law & Order," I whispered, gawking at the mirror. Derek dragged me to my seat and sat me with a chuckle.

Under the table, he held my hand.

"Miss Saunders—"

"Chloe. Call me Chloe."

A reassuring squeeze from Derek's hand made me relax as the officer began questioning me. "And when did you leave?"

"About a year ago. After my dad died in a house fire."

"Did you know that the suspect in the house fire arson was your, at the time, boyfriend, Royce Banks, and your friend Rachelle Rodgers?"

"N-no, sir. I didn't know they had an investigation done."

Officer Reynolds looked up, brows furrowed as his brown eyes met mine. "Did Mr. Banks ever strike you?"

"Yes. He pushed me into a sink and I cracked my head. And then, on the night that I left, he attacked me…he had a gun." I closed my eyes. "There was rope under his bed. The doctors watched him, making sure he wouldn't try to kill himself."

"Did you and Mr. Banks have any sexual relations?"

"Yes. Five."

"Did he ever force you?"

"Three of the five."

"Did you report them?"

"No."

Derek's leg was bouncing so I patted his hand and he relaxed, his green eyes clouded.

"Why?"

"He said…" My throat closed up. "H-he s-said…he'd kill me if I told."

"Did you ever conceive a child with him?"

"No, he always used protection. Said he wasn't ready for a baby. I lost my virginity to him; he lied and said it was his first time to."

"Did you know that he's been arrested?"

"No."

My palms were sweating and I pulled my hand out of Derek's, wiping them on my jeans. Maybe wearing jeans and a sweatshirt in the middle of summer wasn't a good idea.

"What's he been arrested for?"

"Domestic violence, stalking, trespassing, distribution illegal substances, sexual assault, attempted rape, rape, and…" Officer Reynolds looked up at me then, his face ash-pale. "…Murder."

"M-Murder?"

"He was suspected of bludgeoning his younger brother Austin's brains in with a dumbbell while he slept." My brain stuttered, images of a mini Royce lying in bed, brain matter—

"He posted bail and was found not guilty. Fled to Europe for the next few years before he went to Sacramento."

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts and a pretty woman with black hair walked in. "Ah, Miss—" began Reynolds but the woman glared at me and Derek said, his voice strained, "Diane Enright."

Her red lips curled into a mockery of a smile. "Hello, Derek. My, my, you've certainly grown. Tell me: Does Victoria miss her mother?" My head swung back and forth, like I was trying to watch a game of tennis.

"No, actually," Derek replied, gripping my hand fiercely under the table, "she doesn't. She knows who you are and, trust me, if she wanted to find you, she would have by now." Diane slanted a look my way. "And who's this?"

"Chloe." Derek growled out my name

"Saunders?" Diane tutted. "You look like your mother…aside from the burns, of course. How's Steve doing, without his loving wife?" The sneer in her voice rocked me to the core as she glared down at me with such pure hate that I was rooted to the chair.

"He's dead, Diane," I spat out, the words flying from my lips in a spray of spittle. "Did you know that he was dead? Or that he even _had _a daughter?" I was out of my seat now, more than agitated at this point. My blood was singing with anger that had been shallowly buried.

"I doubt you even know what's it _like _to have a daughter, considering you gave up Tori!" I snarled, in her face now. I was blowing up. I was setting myself up for something bad. "You disgust me. You think you have _any _goddamn fucking right to march into here and speak of my mother when you abandoned your daughter like that!?" I screamed, tears filling my eyes.

"You have no right to call yourself Tori's mother. You have _no _right to even speak her name or speak of Chloe's family. You have _no _right at all, Diane," Derek rumbled as he rubbed my shoulders. I burst into tears.

"I'd want to kill myself too," Diane said softly, her voice laced with malice and venom and just everything negative, "if I had to come home to a stuttering fuck up of a girl and a confused, dumbass of a husband who couldn't even find his way out of the bathroom!"

"GET THE HELL OUT!" Derek snarled, the boom of his voice rooting me to the floor as I began to cry, tears dripping down my face.

"Abomination. That's what you both are."

She slammed the door shut behind her and calm descended, Derek holding me and rocking me as I cried for the longest time.


	6. Chapter 6

Burn

Six

Ghosts Are Gaining

Days crawled by without a single word from Diane, which, I think, everyone was grateful for. I wouldn't—no, I _couldn't_—go back home so I holed myself up in Derek's room. My aunt stopped by and tried to bring me back but I wouldn't go, I'd kick and scream and try to bite her when she came to try to pry me away from the only safe thing I had.

"Chloe," said a deep voice as someone knocked on the door. I scowled. Derek looked over his shoulder, away from his computer game, something militaristic. His damp hair was slicked back and dripped water down the back of his sweatshirt, leaving damp, dark trail of cold. His jeans were warm from the drier.

"Chloe," said my aunt in a firm voice, "you need to get out." "No!" I spat, burrowing myself deeper into Derek's nice-smelling blankets. "You won't make me, right, Derek?" I said, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He shook his head. "I want you to be happy and safe, not miserable and vulnerable," he murmured as he shut down his computer and walked over to me. I opened up my arms and he crawled close. He smelled clean and hot, like warm skin.

"Chloe, Officer Malloy is here," Aunt Lauren pressed and then the door shuddered. "What're you doing?" Kit demanded as the pounding paused, a brief snippet of conversation and then my aunt snarled, "Your menace of a boy had kidnapped her!"

"No, he hasn't!" I yelled before pressing my face into Derek's chest, focusing instead on his hands rubbing up and down my back. He was hot and solid against me, familiar, safe. He wouldn't hurt me.

"My boy is _not _a menace!" Kit spat. I whimpered and Derek hugged me tighter, cooing in my ear. I inhaled his scent, greedy. If I could, I'd bottle the scent and spray it all over my clothes so I could smell him.

"He's cooped her up in that room!" my aunt argued, "and he won't let her out! He's brainwashed her!" I never heard my aunt freak out so it was kind of funny; I started to laugh. When I peeked over Derek's broad shoulder, my blood ran cold.

Royce stood behind him, the scratches healed and scabbing but the gun in his hands gleamed like Black Death; illuminated by the window, a ghostly figure. I stuttered his name. "Hello, hello, Chloe," he purred, stepping closer. The floorboards creaked under his weight.

Derek whipped away from me and snarled; "Stay down!" as he lunged at Royce, tackling him to the ground. Royce laughed, shooting off a few round into the ceiling. Plaster fell to the floor. I scrambled for the door and yelped as pain exploded under my eye. Blood oozed down my cheek as another shot grazed my arm.

I fumbled with the lock, ducking down as the door shattered. "Royce is here!" I sobbed as I scrambled away, tears pouring down my cheeks. My face burned.

"Hands up!" yelled the lead cop. Derek obeyed but Royce, being the sneaky bastard he is, threw a brutal uppercut towards Derek and he fell, his nose gushing blood.

"Freeze!" the cop bellowed and there was a gleam in Royce's eyes that I didn't like. "Liam, how nice to see you," said my ex, a smile growing across his tanned face.

The cop jolted.

"Turned your life around, haven't you?" he sneered and I shut down all the thoughts of Royce sneering at me. Tears rand down my face as my nose dripped onto my sweatshirt, leaking snot. Blood stained the fabric.

"You married?" he asked suddenly. Malloy hesitated and Royce's hand whipped up. Malloy's men fired several shots and I started to scream, kicking, crying, as Derek vaulted across the bed and shielded me. I cried into his chest and he shushed me, rocking me.

The smell of blood and gunpowder polluted the air as my aunt screamed and screamed and called my name. I huddled closer to Derek as he kissed the top of my head, stroking my bloody hair. I cried and cried until the smoke and I saw a body lying facedown on the ground.

"Open a window," called one of the policemen and the smoke thinned. I saw my aunt staring in horror at the body on the floor as Derek checked over my wounds, worrying about whether or not my cheek would need stitches, if my arm was okay.

"I-I think I'm fine. I-It was just a graze," I murmured, eyes trained on the dead man. "Who…?" Derek whispered as my eyes focused on the man's hair. Dark, wavy. Thick.

Royce really _was _dead. I sobbed until I heaved and Derek kept my hair out of the toilet. "S-sorry," I panted between retching heaves. My stomach was empty but I continued to heave, the sight of Royce Banks, thank god, dead rolling in my brain.

"That'll be one hell of a stain to get out," Simon joked and then, "Ow! What the hell?" "You made a joke about the man we all just saw get shot!" snapped Aunt Lauren's voice.

Strings of saliva fell from my lips as Derek dampened a washcloth and patted my mouth free of disgusting bile. He pulled my hair into a ponytail as he rubbed my back and made me brush my teeth five times until there wasn't a hint of vomit smell and I scrubbed my face until the skin grew raw.

"He's dead," I laughed softly, turning to Derek with a smile. Tears spilled out of my eyes, dripped down my face. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. "Yes, Chloe," Derek murmured, drawing me closer, his hands solid and warm against my back. His voice vibrated through my entire body when he said my name and it made me feel fuzzy and warm, nothing like Royce.

"He's gone."

The EMTs arrived and cleaned up the body; Derek moved me into the guest room, which had two beds and a separating wall adjoined with a door, and Aunt Lauren nearly gave herself an aneurism when I announced that I'd be staying with Kit and the gang for a few more days.

"She _is _traumatized," Tori argued, holding her ground against my aunt. Derek came up beside me and his warm, rough hand slid into mine.

Where they belonged.


End file.
